


The human kind

by mariesondetre



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Emotional Sex, First Time, Human Castiel, M/M, Messy, Porn with Feelings, So there you go, but there's a lot of feelings, nor is it a proper blow job, soppy tropes, they're in love, this isn't even a proper handjob, unexpected orgasm
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-07
Updated: 2016-08-07
Packaged: 2018-08-07 06:27:12
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7703962
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mariesondetre/pseuds/mariesondetre
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The first time Dean sees Cas splayed onto his bed, naked and hard for him, he has the worst emotional break down ever. The perfect first time sex most fics describe never happens, but instead they have a messy and teary hand job, Dean sobs into Cas’ stomach, Cas gets drunk on Dean’s armpit scent, there’s come on Cas’ knee and on the sheets.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The human kind

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in some alternate season 9 where Sam has been cured without being possessed by Gadreel, and Cas never met April because Dean came to get him as soon as he called the first time. They're at the bunker together and Cas is learning how to be human.
> 
> The summary is in fact a headcanon I self-prompted to myself.

It's been about two months since Dean took the Impala, drove all the way to Colorado, picked up a very distressed and very human Castiel and brought him back to the bunker. In those few weeks he's had to help Cas understand and deal with his newly acquiered humanity, and he's enjoying it. He's always been more at ease with the caretaker role, and even if Sam gives him side-eyes and half-smirks, he doesn't care : yes, he's patient with explaining things to Cas, and Sam should shut his cakehole because he did teach him too how to dress properly and do laundry and cook, so repeating it for Cas is the least he can do.

Tonight, Dean's dozing off in his bed, half-assedly reading a book. He's wearing a shirt and his boxers, but he's had to pull the covers upon himself; the bunker is starting to get colder with the fall coming. A small rasp resonates on his door. He gets up, calling “Yeah” at the same time. The door opens on Cas, standing there in his sweats – not Dean's anymore, although he did wear Dean's clothes on the first days after the fall. He's barefoot and Dean scowls a bit when he notices – he doesn't think Cas is ready for his first cold yet.

“What's up, buddy? You okay?”

“Dean... I hope I didn't wake you. I'd like to talk to you about something.”

“Come in. You shouldn't walk barefoot, the floor is freezing.”

Cas enters the room and goes to sit in the chair next to the desk; Dean settles back on his bed, facing him, waiting for Cas to speak. They've had those late night talks before. Cas obviously trusts Dean not to brush off his questions about social behaviours or technology or pop culture. Tonight, his face is more serious than if he was about to talk about Netflix, though.

“I want you to excuse me in advance, Dean, because I know you're not very comfortable with the subject I'd like to discuss. Besides, it's about you, in a way. But I... I kind of looked it up on the internet and I gathered up that you're supposed to talk about that with your best friend. And I think you're my best friend... I hope it's not presumptuous.”

Dean feels himself blush – pleased that Cas trusts him, or maybe a little offended that he could question the fact that Dean's his best friend. Of course he is. He wouldn't give up on the title for anything.

“Of course I am, buddy. So, what is it? Did you have issues with digestion again?”

“No, it's not that. Still annoying though, but I guess I must get used to it. It's about feelings.”

“What feelings?”

“That's the problem, actually. I don't know how to name them. I find myself feeling differently towards you than I do towards other people, and I don't know why. I'd just like to know if this is what defines a best friend, as opposed to... normal friends? Because I tried to analyse it, like when you taught me how to differentiate between the need for a snack and the instances of real hunger that justified a full meal, and I didn't find that it was just a matter of intensity, the feelings seem to be quite different, except there are elements of trust and worry and interest in both cases, but there's something else as well and...”

“Cas. Cas, you're babbling.” Dean rubs his hand over his mouth, his heart rate way above normal. He's glad Cas can't sense that anymore.

“Do you want me to describe what I'm feeling?” Cas asks, looking a bit lost.

“No. I... I think I know what those feelings are. But Cas, it's...” Dean sighs. Suddenly he doesn't know where he wants this conversation to go; he knows where it _should_ go: nowhere, back in the realm of unsaid lingering things. It'd be way safer.

“I know how you feel, because I feel the same way. And I know you're more comfortable when you're able to label things, but... this is scary. And dangerous. Maybe it doesn't need to be labelled. Best friend is as good a name for it as any.”

“But... oh.” Cas suddenly stops, his eyes widening. After a short silence, he asks softly: “It's love, isn't it? The human kind”. Dean huffs a small laugh, almost defeated. He knew that was coming, in a way. He's still terrified.

“Not that I've experienced any other kind, but yeah. I guess.”

“Then if it's true that you feel the same, I won't bury it, Dean. I had to make my peace with not going back to being an angel; now I want to embrace the human life, live it fully, experience it all. Why do you think it's scary? I'm not scared of this. Or maybe it's because I'm a man? I'm not sure I get the whole sexual orientation issue yet.”

Dean blushes once again at that, but now it's on the table – and Cas has got a gift for speaking bluntly about sensitive issues – he won't shy away. Not because of this particular thing anyway.

“Nah. I'm kinda used to dig guys sometimes, actually. Just had to learn how to hide it because of my dad.”

“Then, why?”

“You know why, Cas. Because I can't afford to lose you, and I end up losing all the people I care about.” His voice breaks a little on the last words. He feels this familiar knot weighing on his plexus.

Cas leans towards him, putting a warm hand on his knee. When he talks, he emphasizes every word.

“You are not cursed, Dean. And even if you were, I'd be willing to take the risk. I'm already at your side, no matter what. So what's the difference?”

Dean takes a breath, and then another. There's a stinging at the back of his eyes, so he screws them shut for a second. “What do you want to do?” he murmurs, laying his hand on Cas', which still rests on his knee. Cas answers without missing a beat.

“I want to be close to you. Like when we hug.” Cas moves to sit besides Dean on the bed. Without hesitation, he raises his arms and circles Dean's shoulders. They're sitting side by side, and it isn't very comfortable, but Dean hugs him anyway, roaming his hands over his back. Hugging Cas without the jacket and the trench coat is different. He can feel his muscles and his bones, his chest heaving softly with each breath. Dean tilts his head until he can rest his nose on Cas' shoulder. He smells like their soap and the bunker.

“Not close enough” Cas mumbles, trying and failing to position his legs differently to somehow shift closer to Dean. But Dean knows what he might want, and he extracts himself from Cas' embrace just enough to press their lips together. His heart beats wildly in his chest. This is a final step, it seems. They won't be able to go back after this, but he finds he doesn't want to anyway. Actually, nothing has ever felt so right before in his life. Cas opens his mouth under his like he's drowning, like Dean's the only thing that can save him. And they've already saved each other so many times that it might as well be the case. Dean guides him into the kiss, tenderly, until Cas pushes into his mouth with more force, dragging his hands around Dean's waist at the same time. He lingers here for a short time, then shoves his hands under Dean's shirt and yanks it up. By the time Dean pulls out of his shirt, Cas is lying on the bed, shirt discarded as well, and he's pushing his sweats down, along with his underwear.

“Dean, you have to show me. This body is overwhelming. Inhabiting a vessel was totally different from having my own body, from _being_ a body. You taught me a lot about being human, but not enough.”

Dean's eyes travel across Cas' body, naked, splayed there and bare in the most evident way, his dick hard and his desire just for Dean. Dean's always been conscious that Castiel existed in a whole other dimension than what he could see; he was something big and unfathomable. But now, this is all there is of Cas – this human body and the soul behind his eyes. And Dean sees him so fragile and beautiful and so mortal that his throat clenches and his eyes fill with tears before he has time to control them. They fall freely on his cheeks and down his chin until one of them lands on Cas' belly.

“Dean, are you okay? What's the matter?”

But Dean can only mutter meaningless nothings like “'s okay, don't worry, I'm all right” as he pulls Cas in his arms again and squeezes, and lays his ear upon his chest, sliding his lips all over Cas' torso, his arms, his neck. He hugs him tight. He's still wearing his boxers and soon Cas urges him to take them off, sliding his fingers under the waistband, murmuring something that sounds like _“closer”_. Dean gets rid of his remaining clothes, just squirming on top of Cas to let them fall to the floor. When they're both naked, skin to skin, another sob escapes Dean's throat. He's impossibly hard and he vaguely wonders how he’s lasted so long, how he’s still going; the few times he’s thought about this, he honestly assumed the first touch of Cas’s finger would have him coming in his pants like a teenager.

But at the moment he doesn't know if he's more overwhelmed with lust or with longing or with the fear that all of this can never last. Maybe it's just love.

They kiss again, Dean's mouth wet with tears, Cas' hands stroking his back, sliding to his butt. Their bodies adjust together, their dicks aligning, and Cas moans into Dean's mouth. They start rocking slowly, rutting against each other erratically. Dean breaks the kiss and lifts his head slightly so he can look at Cas. His eyes are unfocused, like he's concentrating on every sensation but cannot quite manage to keep track of it all. Only when Dean frames his face with his hands does Cas gaze back at Dean, a sudden hungry look in his eyes.

Cas angles his hips and topples Dean to the side so they’re straddling each other’s thighs. He mouths along Dean's clavicle, towards his shoulder, then shoves his nose under Dean's armpit and _inhales_. He groans, burying his nose farther under Dean's arm, causing him to chuckles in surprise.

“I like the way you smell here, Dean,” Cas growls. “A lot.”

“Cas, no, it's disgusting.” “NO. It's like a concentrated version of you.” He sounds almost offended. “Besides, you showered a few hours ago. You’re not dirty. You smell clean.” His voice is strained, as if he's trying to sound like his normal serious self, all the while sniffing at Dean's armpit and still rutting against his thigh in a steady rhythm. The contrast drives Dean half mad and he wants _more_ , he wants Cas and Cas is still not nearly close enough. He can feel Cas' dick against his thigh, hot and heavy, and suddenly he needs to see it better, to know it because it's a part of Cas that no one else knows, not even Cas himself maybe – not like Dean wants to know it and claim it and own it. So he puts both his hands under Cas' arms and tries to yank him up the bed and to slide down at the same time. Cas lets out a surprised yelp, but Dean soothes him by sliding his palms down his chest while he ends up half folded, half bent across Cas' mid-section.

Now he can see Cas' dick, but he has no coherent thought left, just “closer, closer” and “I need you” and “mine”, and maybe he says it out loud, he doesn't know, all he hears is their matching breathing, rapid and deep, a weak whimper on each exhale.

He buries his face at the juncture between Cas' hipbone and lower belly and he kisses him there, wet, licking his way from the crease of his thigh to the base of his dick. He pushes the flat of his tongue up the shaft and he feels Cas going rigid under him and he's lucky he doesn't take it right into the eye because Cas comes without a warning, moaning Dean's name through gritted teeth. Dean puts a hand on him and strokes him through it, his other hand reaching reflexively down to his own dick. He thrusts into his hand, tries to crawl up Cas' body to kiss him, to look into his eyes, but his orgasm hits him by surprise too and he's coming on Cas' knee and thigh and all over the sheets.

He collapses on top of Cas, his chest resting into the puddle of come on Cas' belly. He doesn't care. They just breathe together for a little while, their heart beating in unison.

After a moment, Dean lifts himself up on an elbow and looks down at the two of them. The sheets are rumpled, there's come everywhere. Cas sports a sated smile like Dean has never seen before. It's perfect.

“It's a total mess," he says. "I don't think we could've made it more human if we'd tried.”

“I like it the human way, then”, Cas answers, caressing his arms, the gesture so natural it’s like he’s done it a hundred times. Like it’s been forever.

Dean no longer feels like crying, now. He just wants to smile like a lunatic, so he does exactly that.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Find me on tumblr @dixseptdixhuit


End file.
